


Heat Wave

by moodiful819



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Lime, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodiful819/pseuds/moodiful819
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kakashi is a stuffy old codger and Sakura has a way to fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NeonAnything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonAnything/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Heatwave](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/98603) by neonanything. 



Their clothes are plastered to their skin. In the back of her mind, she wonders why it feels like someone coated every bit of fabric they owned in marshmallow fluff. Even the air smells saccharine in the summer heat.

Uncomfortable, she turns to lay on her side. She can feel the sweat run down her back, collecting in moist, damp pools between her shoulders or sliding trails along the lines of her rib cage. “It’s hot,” she complains, half-whine, half-moan, but all entirely to herself.

Idly she looks out of the corner of her eye, watching as her former teacher pants heavily into the fabric over his mouth.

"If you’re suffocating, you can just take it off, you know. I’m not a little kid anymore. The novelty is all gone," she explains and he seems to understand by the briefest pause in his drooping head, but pride makes him stubborn. He keeps the mask on.

She shrugs an unsympathetic shoulder. “Suit yourself. I’m baking,” she says and it’s all the warning he has before she whips her sodden T-shirt over her head and tosses it to the foot of the bed.

In her bare skin and bare breasts, she sighs contentedly. It’s so much easier to breathe now, and she falls back into bed and wiggles in the sheets, luxuriating in just how much cooler everything feels now. It’s a lie of course—the humidity is still suffocating and the thermometer is still an angry red—but she feels so much more relaxed now and that’s all that counts.

Humming a tune she’d heard on the radio yesterday, she glances up at the silver-haired man who shares her bed with her. “Are you sure you don’t want to take that thing off?”

"I’m sure," he says with a hint of stubbornness in his voice and the paper fan in his hand continuously at its leisurely work. "Why do you ask?"

"Because it makes it easier to do certain activities," she says running a displaying hand down the length of her torso before flipping onto her stomach. "For instance…"

And then she’s against his side, one hand pinning his fanning arm while the other tugs his mask down with a deft touch. Mouth against his, tongues tangling between them, she takes in the smell of his sharp aftershave with the sweet, sticky smell of summer, and kisses him until her jaw aches.

With a vulgar, wet sound, she pulls away. Surveying the cowl still hanging limply around his neck, she wipes away the saliva with the back of her hand, triumphant and with deep, deep predatory satisfaction.

"See, aren’t you breathing a bit better now?" she asks, licking her lower lip once more for good measure.

His answer is a dry, rough chuckle. “Worse,” he admits sheepishly.

And with that, Sakura throws her head back and laughs, settling to crawl into his lap.


End file.
